to think about the chemistry that’s buzzing between us since he arrived in New Orleans. Henry was putting it on the table, but it’s not who we are. It's not who we can be. I force the thoughts away, check my email, and stare at the window.
When I step out of the taxi, I find Andrew there waiting. It’s weird enough that Henry had found me, but to see Andrew here is more than I can handle. I want to know how.
And I don't want him here.
“Jules . . .” He looks as if he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since I left.
The driver, who doesn’t look bulky enough to withstand a strong wind let alone a fight, looks from me to Andrew and scowls. “You okay, miss?”
I hesitate before nodding. “Thank you.”
Andrew has made me uncomfortable, but I’m not afraid he’ll hurt me. He hasn’t ever acted in a threatening way. The simple fact that he’s here, that’s he’s traveled, alarms me.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” The driver asks as I hand him some cash.
I look away from the taxi driver and study Andrew where he waits on the street. I don’t trust easily, but I should trust him. He’s been in my life long enough that he’s earned it.
“I’m sure.”
The driver shakes his head. “Do you want me to wait for you to get inside?”
“I’m good.” I take my receipt and get out.
The car drives away.
Andrew and I are standing on the sidewalk, as awkward as if we’re strangers. This is a man who’s touched every inch of my body, a man who has shared my meals, a man whose bed I’ve slept in regularly. We shouldn’t feel like this.
Still, Andrew says nothing. I want him to speak, to give me an answer that would explain why he’s here. He shifts on his feet.
“How did you find me?”
“Micky.”
I nod. It hadn’t occurred to me not to send my uncle my address. Henry already knew where I was, and Andrew knew I was in New Orleans. I guess I’d assumed Uncle Micky wouldn’t share the specifics. It seemed out of character. “He told you?”
“I looked on his phone.”
I close my eyes and push my temper away. “Why?”
“You need to understand. If I thought you’d actually find Tess, I’d have obstructed you more. Let this go, Juliana. Let her go. She’s safer this way.” He stares at me as he speaks, and fear starts to fill me. Fear of Andrew. “Right now, she’s alive, but if you lead him to her—”
“You know her. Teresa. You know the woman who could help me catch the Creeper.”
Andrew nods.
“And the Creeper watches me, you know that more than because of the letter, don’t you?”
Andrew holds my gaze. “I tried to stop it.”
He steps toward me.
I back up. I can’t help it. The secret Andrew has been keeping, apparently, is that he knows more than he’s admitted about the monster who’s killing women and leaving their bodies for me to tend.
“I’m not him. I wouldn’t do those things, Jules. You know me. You may not love me, but you know me.”
“I thought I did.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You know Teresa.”
“It always feels weird to call her Teresa. She hates that name. She went by Tess when we met.”
He smiles in a way that’s more revealing even than his words. Whatever she was to him, it wasn’t simple friendship. There’s love in his eyes. It’s painfully obvious that Teresa matters to him enough that he’s known where she was and hidden it, hidden her, even as other women died. He did so even when he knew the killer was watching me. For now, that’s all my mind can process. The bigger thing—the fact that he knows more about the killer—is too much.
“You don’t understand, Jules. If I told you, if we went to Tess, he’d find her. He’s watching you—”
“Because of you.” I step backward again, moving closer to the building.
I scan the street, looking for the killer. I don’t know what he looks like. I’m not sure I’d even be able to tell if he were here, watching me. I clutch the keys in one hand and reach into my jacket pocket to grip my phone with the other. “He found me because he was watching you.”
Andrew sighs, but his gaze doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
I don’t know whether to run or lock myself in the rental or call Henry. I don’t know what to think or do.